


Soho Cowboy

by David_Ginsberg



Series: Lucas Meets World [1]
Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-11-26 00:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/David_Ginsberg/pseuds/David_Ginsberg
Summary: Shawn Hunter takes in his nephew, Lucas Friar.





	1. Chapter 1

Lucas Friar sat nervously in the group home’s common area, watching the clock count down the minutes. The social worker had threatened to make it a permanent placement unless they found a relative who was suitable and willing to serve as a foster parent. Threatened wasn’t exactly the right word; she had used the faux-sympathetic tone adults always use for kids when a policy is being implemented For Their Own Good, but a threat was what Lucas had taken from it. His father was out because of the restraining order, and the only other relatives that he knew of were a pair of half-uncles who’d shown up to help his mom move out when his parents split up and then proceeded to call about once a month.

It was 2:10 in the afternoon when the caseworker walked in and called out his name.

“Yes, ma’am,” he walked over to her hesitantly.

“Your Uncle Shawn is here to pick you up.” She must have seen the smile on his face and tried to avoid giving him false hope. “Of course, we have to do a background check before we can let you go.”

She led Lucas into a waiting room/lobby, where Uncle Shawn was thumbing through a magazine. He looked up and walked over to Lucas.

“How ya’ doin?”

Lucas shrugged. “Been better.”

“I’ll bet. I’m just gonna fill out some paperwork and then we’ll get you out of here.”

“Mr. Hunter, if you’ll step into my office we can start the paperwork.”

Lucas didn’t like the word ‘start’ in this context, and by the look on his face, neither did Uncle Shawn. Nevertheless, they both obediently followed the caseworker into her office.

“Alright, Mr. Hunter, to begin with I’ll need your full name and address.”

“Shawn Patrick Hunter, that’s S-H-A-W-N. My address is 565 Broome, B-R-O-O-M-E Street, Penthouse North, New York, New York.”

“And you intend to have the child in question reside with you in New York.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll need to send someone out to do a home visit before you can take the child out of the state.”

“How long will that take?”

“A few days. I can sign him out if you have somewhere to take him.”

“I have a hotel room.”

“Marital status?”

“Divorced. I can get you contact information for my ex.”

“Ok, and your occupation?”

“I’m the managing partner of Hunter-Marsden, a global advertising firm,” Shawn handed her a business card, “if you call the number on that card, my secretary will verify my identity.”

The caseworker looked skeptical. “Alright, I’m going to need three references.”

Shawn began pulling papers out of a manila envelope. “This paper has contact information for Topanga Lawrence-Matthews, a partner at the law firm of Elliot, Brown, and Montgomery; Jonathan Turner, the Chancellor of the New York City Department of Education, and President Clinton.”

“I’m sorry, how do you know the president?”

“I did the advertising for her campaign. You know those commercials with her reading to her grandkids? Those were my idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Samantha Abbott was awakened by a ringing telephone.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Liana Hughes with the Travis County Department of Social Services. I’m calling in regards to a Shawn Hunter.”

“Is he alright?” Samantha pictured Shawn’s body lying mangled under a subway train or being fished out of a river somewhere.

“We’re conducting a background check for a foster care placement.”

“A foster care placement?”

“A relative placement for a Lucas Friar. Are you familiar with that name?”

“I don’t remember. Shawn had several half-siblings all over the country.”

“This child is the son of his half-sister Stacy Hunter. Can you provide any insight into his relationship with her?”

“I know he helped her get out of an abusive marriage a couple of years ago, and I think he may have been sending her money. She was a few years older than him and moved to the West Coast when he was younger.”

“I see. I understand that this may be a sensitive question Ms. Abbott, but has he ever behaved abusively toward you?”

“No, he never even yelled at me.” Their preferred strategies for handling conflict had been to work excessive hours, and when that failed to sit next to each other on the couch, staring into space, with a glass of whisky each. “I don’t know if he’s told you this, but Shawn had a horrifically abusive childhood,” Sam wasn’t sure that she knew the full details, but she knew enough. “It affected him deeply, and our marriage ended because of it, but I know he would never perpetuate it. I think he’d be a very good foster parent for a child with a similar background.”

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Abbott.”


	3. Chapter 3

Shawn Hunter was worried. He had always been planning to help Stacy’s kid out with college, but he hadn’t expected to end up raising him. He’d been mildly suspicious that she never wanted him or Jack to fly back out to Texas, but chalked it up to lingering childhood resentment until he got the call from the hospital. Now he found himself sandwiched between Lucas and another caseworker, trying to make small talk that would both build a rapport with Lucas and convince the caseworker that he was a suitable guardian, while suppressing panic at the thought that he was now actually responsible for the welfare of a human being.

“So, when we get to New York I’m going to introduce you to my friends Cory and Topanga. They have a daughter the same age as you.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lucas stared intently out the window. Shawn was pretty sure it was his first time on an airplane.

“Topanga is the lawyer you listed as a reference?” the caseworker asked.

“Yes.”

“How do you know her?”

“We were childhood best friends.”

“And Cory is her husband?”

“Yes, also a childhood friend of mine.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a teacher.”

The plane landed at O’Hare, where they had a 90 minute layover. Shawn introduced Lucas to Chicago-style hot dogs, or at least the airport version thereof, while regaling him and the social worker with a highly edited version of his past trips to Chicago. Editing the stories ended up making them mostly about commercials Shawn had worked on, and he realized that he was starting to lose Lucas’ interest.

Actually, it seemed like Lucas was tired. They’d had to get up at 4:00 to complete the paperwork before driving to the airport. Lucas slept on the plane until Shawn nudged him awake for the final approach into La Guardia.

They claimed their baggage (Lucas’ worldly possessions fit into two suitcases) and got on the subway into Manhattan. Shawn had driven to the airport, but his Maranello only had two seats, and wasn’t exactly the kind of car that suggested a stable home life. He made sure to show Lucas how the subway worked, so that he could navigate it for himself once the placement was approved.

They finally reached Shawn’s apartment at around 8:00. Lucas stared at the view through the downstairs terrace.

“So there’s two guest bedrooms upstairs,” Shawn explained, “Why don’t you pick one out while I order us something for dinner.”

The caseworker took the opportunity to interrogate Shawn while Lucas was out of earshot.

“Do you keep any firearms in the home?”

“No, I don’t own a firearm.” “ _Does this guy realize he’s not in Texas anymore?”_

“What about prescription medications?”

“I’m not on any prescriptions.”

“What about alcohol?”

Shawn forced himself not to betray defensiveness. “I keep a fully stocked liquor cabinet for entertaining clients. It has a key that I can leave in the safe in my office.” “ _I should probably leave it with Cory for a couple of weeks, but this guy doesn’t need to know that.”_

“Pets?”

“One cat.” “ _Please don’t ask her name…”_ “If you don’t have any additional questions, I can go ahead and order dinner.”

“Be my guest.”

Just then, Lucas came downstairs, followed by the cat.

“What’s its name?” Lucas asked.

“Uh…Beelzebub. I call her Belz for short. The, uh, shelters have a hard time adopting out black cats,” Shawn explained, more for the caseworker’s benefit than for Lucas’. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

Lucas shrugged.

“There’s a really good Persian place on Seamless,” Shawn suggested.

Lucas had no idea what Persian food was like, but he didn't want to disagree with Shawn's suggestion. “Sounds fine.”

Shawn ordered kebabs and they ate in an awkward silence. Before leaving, the social worker told Shawn that he would be back the next morning and explained the final round of paperwork.

When Shawn turned around, Lucas had fallen asleep on the couch. Not wanting to wake him, Shawn retrieved a blanket from the closet and gently draped it over him.


	4. Chapter 4

Cory Matthews ran to pick up the phone. It was Shawn’s number, and Shawn hadn’t called him in three days, which was long enough for Cory to start to worry.

“Shawnie, what’s going on? You haven’t called…”

“I’m taking care of Stacy’s kid.” Shawn’s voice sounded panicked.

“What?”

“Stacy OD’d, and now I have custody of her kid.”

“What’s his…”

“His name’s Lucas. Look, I tried Horace Mann and Dalton but their deadlines are passed. I’m going to try to sign him up for the Quincy School.”

“Umm…”

 “How much time do I have to get him registered?”

“The deadline was June 25.”

Shawn sighed. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Well, they’ve been trying to raise the money for a new natatorium.”

“What is that, like a theater for babies?”

“It’s a swimming pool.”

“Ok, fine, I’ll buy them a damn swimming pool. Can you talk to them for me?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just vouch that he’s not, like, a juvenile delinquent or anything.”

“Umm….Shawnie.”

“He’s not, I swear, he’s my complete opposite. I can send you his transcripts.”

“Ok, I’ll take your word for it. How are you doing.”

“I’m fine.”

Cory wasn’t convinced. “Shawnie…”

“You being worried isn’t going to help anything.”

“Can I come over?”

“I want to give Lucas a little time to adjust before introducing him to a bunch of people.”

Cory relented. “Ok, but I’m going to call every day.”


	5. Chapter 5

Lucas woke up and examined his surroundings. He was used to living in a series of cramped apartments and trailers, so Shawn’s massive apartment with its double-height living room was a little intimidating. The living room furniture consisted of two grey couches and a matching set of modernistic chairs, along with a coffee table that supported a book of Warhol photographs and an abstract sculpture, and a couple of black side tables, one of which held a lamp. There was a grey carpet that ran to the edge of the staircase, where the floor turned to light-colored wood. One window looked out over a spectacular view of the downtown skyline, illuminated by the bright early-morning sunlight, and the other opened onto a terrace overlooking the river.

On one side of the living room was a room with a closed door that Lucas didn’t feel like he should open, and on the other was a hallway that led into another living room and a dining area. Behind the dining room was a somewhat closed-off kitchen, where Lucas found Shawn drinking coffee and reading the _New York Times._

“You’re up,” Shawn remarked.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, it was the light. You have a nice view.”

“Thanks, that’ why I bought this place. So, you want some breakfast. I’ve got cereal, yogurt, I can make toast…”

“Cereal’s fine.”

Shawn pulled boxes of cereal from the cupboards. There were more varieties than a single man would logically eat, and none of them had been opened. Lucas suspected that Shawn had bought them in anticipation of his coming, and felt a twinge of guilt at causing Shawn to waste money like that. He studied the cereal intently, but didn’t recognize any of the brands.

Shawn pointed to one of the cereal boxes “That one tastes like cinnamon toast crunch.”

“Thanks.” Lucas poured himself a bowl and sat down.

“At some point I’m going to get Cory to teach me how to cook,” Shawn assured him.

“Who’s Cory?”

“My best friend, he’s actually a really good cook. And he’s got a daughter about your age. I’m going to try to get you into her school.”

“Is she nice?”

“She’s very…cheerful.”


	6. Chapter 6

Cory always enjoyed the teacher prep day before the start of the school year. It was a time of new beginnings, full of anticipation. He was whistling a jaunty tune as he collected his class rosters from Cheryl, the receptionists. The jaunty tune stopped suddenly and he looked up at Cheryl.

“Hey, Cheryl.”

“Yeah.”

“You put my daughter in my homeroom.”

“Let me see that.”

Cheryl took the roster back from Cory and typed something into her laptop.

“Huh, looks like we had to shuffle things around when some kid registered late.” Cheryl leaned in and whispered to Cory. “His dad gave them a bunch of money to build that new natatorium.”

“That would be Lucas, who is also in my homeroom, along with…” Cory took the roster back. “Riley’s best friend and the son of a kid I bullied in grade school. Is there any way we can switch these kids around?”

Cheryl typed something else into the laptop and sighed. “I’m sorry, the parent letters have already gone out. You’ll have to hope somebody requests a transfer for their kid.”

Cory sighed, “How long is it until back-to-school night?”

“This Friday.”

Cory’s good mood had evaporated by the time he got to his classroom. Things got worse when he looked at his homeroom curriculum. The theme for seventh grade homeroom was “Family,” and all the activities Cory did every year were sure to make life hell for Lucas and Shawn – there was a Career Day, right at the beginning of the year, which was sure to give Shawn flashbacks, and a family tree project that was planned to start in January. The kids had to ask their parents what life was like when they were kids. Cory usually used it as an opportunity to discuss how technology had changed (ok, really it was an opportunity to complain about how much time the kids spent on their damn phones), but there was no way Shawn could answer those questions honestly without bringing up…everything. Not that it wouldn’t be good for these kids to get some exposure to the real world, but Cory had no idea how to handle it without making Lucas feel singled out.

Cory pulled out a pen and began marking up his assignments.


	7. Chapter 7

Riley Matthews had been bugging her father to let her ride the subway alone for months now. After all, she would be starting at the upper school this year, and Maya had been riding the subway alone for two years now. Finally, he’d relented, and sent her off to “scope out” the route to school with Maya

When they got into the station, Maya waved to the man playing trash-can drums. “Dweezil!”

Dweezil looked up “Maya, who’s the new chick?”

“This is my friend, Riley.”

Riley’s nerves momentarily got the better of her. “Chick! Down here I'm a chick! No wonder my parents don't want me on the Subway.” She followed Maya into the train and started applying lip gloss.

Maya was a little surprised. “Woah, Riley, you don't do lip gloss.”

“Oh! What I forgot to mention is that I'm completely reinventing myself. I ride the Subway now, I have kiwi lips now, and I'm just as cool as you now!”

“Yeah, let's see how cool you can be when you look at _him_.”

Riley turned around to see a boy sitting by himself next to the door – a cute boy. He had blond hair, a face that called to mind the expression ‘all-American,’ and he was tall, but not tall enough to be intimidating. He looked up and smiled at Riley, who immediately turned around and giggled nervously to Maya.

Maya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you're gonna need some lessons. Let me show you everything you need to know about boys and girls.” She walked over to the boy, asked him out, and then broke up with him in the span of 30 seconds. The boy stared after her, confused, as she walked back to Riley.

Maya took Riley’s hand off the bar, causing Riley to fall into the boy’s lap.

“Hi. We were just talking about you. You used to go out with my friend, Maya.”

“Uh…I’m Lucas?”

“I’m Riley.”

Before she could say anything else, the train pulled into Herald Square Station, where Maya and Riley had to change trains. They went up to the Quincy School’s campus and then cut over to the park, where they hung out for the rest of the morning. Riley invited Maya back to her house for lunch.

When they got back to the Matthews’ apartment, Mr. Matthews was waiting in the living room.

“Maya, I’m glad you’re here! You can come with us to Uncle Shawn’s.”

“We’re going to Uncle Shawn’s?” Riley groaned. He was her least favorite uncle.

“I’ve never met Uncle Shawn,” Maya remarked, “are you sure he’s real?”

“He’s very real,” Cory assured her, “and his nephew is coming to live with him, so we’re going to go meet him.”

“Wait,” Maya asked, “is this kid his real nephew or is this just that thing you guys do where you call all of your friends Riley’s uncles?”

“No, he is definitely Shawn’s biological nephew – he speaks French.” Maya wondered what speaking French had to do with being Shawn’s nephew, but didn’t say anything.

“You don’t think that’s the same Lucas from the subway?” Riley whispered nervously.

“It can’t be,” Maya assured her, “how common of a name is Lucas?”

Maya and Riley chatted happily about their expectations for the upcoming school year on the walk to Shawn’s apartment.

Riley’s face fell when Shawn opened the door. The boy from the subway sat on the couch, petting Shawn’s cat, which scampered off when it saw Riley. He looked up and immediately recognized Riley and Maya.

“Uh…hi. Are you guys…”

“This is Cory’s daughter, Riley,” Shawn explained, “and her friend Maya. They’ll be in the same homeroom as you this year.”

“I’m sure you guys are going to get to be good friends,” Cory said hopefully.

For lunch, they went to Riley’s favorite pizza place, and she peppered Lucas with questions while Maya demonstrated the correct way to fold a slice.

“So why’d you come live with your uncle?”

Lucas stared at his plate. “My mom’s, uh…sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What’s wrong with her? Oh!” Riley’s father had elbowed her under the table.

Lucas mumbled an unintelligible response and Shawn quickly changed the subject to the Phillies.

After finishing their lunch, Riley and Mr. Matthews dropped Maya off at the subway station and then went home. Riley was reading a book that evening when her father knocked on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, Riley,” Cory sat down in Riley’s bay window, “I wanted to talk about Lucas.”

“He seems shy,” Riley observed, “but nice.” Riley thought virtually everyone was ‘nice.’ The worst descriptor in her vocabulary was ‘grumpy,’ which she reserved for Uncle Shawn, his cat, and her third-grade teacher.

“Yeah, he is kind of shy. Just try not to ask him too many questions, ok?”

“Why not?”

“You know how we don’t talk about Shawn’s Mom and Dad around him?”

“You made that joke about his mom running away every Tuesday,” Riley reminded her father.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have done that, and I didn’t realize he was standing right behind me when I did. Anyway, it’s kind of the same thing with Lucas.”

“Oh.” Riley had always known vaguely that Shawn’s parents had both ‘run away’ the same as Maya’s Dad had, and she had picked up that he had been poor like Maya was, but Maya was always ready to talk about her problems and Shawn never seemed to want to talk about anything that wasn’t sports or his job or the famous people he met.

“Lucas is going to have a hard time adjusting to a new school, and it might seem sometimes like he’s mean or a troublemaker, but that’s not because he’s a bad kid. I want you and Maya to look out for him, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Riley got up and hugged her father before saying goodnight.


	8. Chapter 8

Shawn had canceled his date and ordered takeout for himself and Lucas the first Saturday night. Although he would never admit it, he was glad for the excuse to give up dating, which was becoming less enjoyable the older he got. It turned out that Lucas had played baseball back in Texas and was a devoted fan of the Rangers, which gave them something to talk about.

When he’d finished eating, Lucas got up and wiped his plate off in the sink. “So, Uncle Shawn, do you go to church?”

“No, why?”

“I used to go with my friend back in Texas.”

“Oh, um…Cory and the kids go to mass. I’ll call him and tell him you want to come with.”

“Thanks.”

“They don’t let you do the thing with the cracker unless you join officially, though.”

Shawn called the Matthews-Lawrence residence and made arrangements to get brunch with Topanga and Turner while Cory took the kids to mass. The next morning he helped Lucas pick out a shirt and slacks combo from the new clothes they’d purchased over the previous week and took him over to Cory’s apartment. They met Turner at the Ukrainian bakery on the first floor of the building.

“So how’s the parenting thing working out?” Turner asked.

“He’s actually really well-behaved. I looked at the files they gave me and he has almost perfect grades, never been in trouble, the teachers actually worry about him being too shy.”

“You know that could be internalizing behavior,” Turner warned.

“What’s that?”

“When a kid’s having problems they’ll either act out, like you did, or turn in on themselves, which it sounds like Lucas is doing. They can look totally fine to teachers but be suffering horribly on the inside.”

“Great,” Shawn sighed into his blintzes, “So what do I do?”

 “Keep the lines of communication open, same as you would for externalizing, and watch out for self-harm. On the bright side, your car’s probably safe.”

“Hey, you would have been better off if I had smashed that damn bike.”

“What are you talking about? I never would have met Vicki.”

“Good point.”


	9. Chapter 9

Shawn fidgeted all the way through the presentation in the auditorium. Something about being back inside a school made him nervous. Finally, the presentation ended, and the parents were instructed to reunite with their kids and make their way to their homeroom classes.

It turned out that this was a terrible way to organize a back to school night. Parents were milling about aimlessly in the hallways, looking for their kids. One mother had decided to cut to the chase and was shouting out her child’s name.

“Farkle? I’m over here, sweetie.”

“Yikes,” Shawn whispered to Topanga, “who the heck names their kid Farkle?”

“That would be Stuart Minkus.”

Shawn looked back at the woman. “Wait…is that?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, I really lucked out.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Me neither.”

They followed the Minkii to Cory’s classroom and Shawn insisted on sitting in the back, so Jennifer didn’t see him. It reminded Topanga very much of sixth grade.

Cory stood up and clapped his hands nervously.

“Hi, I’m Mr. Matthews and I’ll be your kids’ homeroom teacher. Now, some of you already know me, thanks to Cheryl, but I thought I’d introduce myself. I grew up outside of Philadelphia, and if you’d known me as a kid you would have never thought I’d grow up to be a teacher.” There were a few chuckles as Cory continued. “I met my lovely wife Topanga in preschool,” Shawn resisted the urge to mutter “sixth grade” under his breath, “and we moved up here for her to go to law school and me to become a film director,” Shawn sensed that this wasn’t Cory’s usual back to school speech, “And now, I teach social studies here at the Adams School, so I’ll be getting to know all about your kids over the next year. And the advisory theme for this year is family, so I’ll be getting to know a lot about you guys as well.”

Cory leaned back against the desk, conspicuously avoiding eye contact with either Shawn or Topanga. “You know, families come in many forms. Family can be your parents, an aunt or uncle, a best friend, or even a teacher. So whatever form your family takes, I hope you’ll participate in the activities we have planned for this year. So, in October we’ll be doing our career day…”

“Did Cory tell you about this?” Topanga whispered to Shawn.

“Yes.”

“…and I’ll also be assigning a report in January for your kids to interview you about your own childhoods and compare your lives at the same age to now.”

“That he didn’t tell me about,” Shawn hissed.

Topanga put her hand on his reassuringly. Cory finished up his presentation and waited for the classroom to empty out. Finally, Shawn and Topanga were the last parents left. Cory watched them slowly approach the desk.

“So….How ya’ doin’”

Shawn grimaced “Career day.”

“Yes.”

“Career day.”

Cory gave a nervous laugh.

Shawn wasn’t amused. “And what’s this report you were talking about?”


	10. Chapter 10

Shawn forced himself to come home early on the first day of school to check on Lucas. He found Lucas rooting through the kitchen cabinets.

“Looking for something?”

“I have to make a diorama of the Civil War.”

“Like – Marvel Civil War or Ken Burns Civil War?”

“The one with Abraham Lincoln.”

“Ok, how impressive does it have to be?”

“Farkle’s going to put sparklers on his.”

“Wait, is Farkle the junior Minkus?”

“How do you know the Minkuses?”

“His dad was in school with Cory and me.”

“So, were you guys friends?”

Shawn laughed sarcastically. “No, we _hated_ each other.”

Lucas gave Shawn a curious look. “How come?”

Shawn realized that he probably shouldn’t be passing his personal feuds on to Lucas, and deflected the question. “Just…dumb kid stuff. It doesn’t really matter. So, uh, what do you need for this diorama?”

“Umm…a shoebox, some army men…”

“I bought you shoes at some point, right?”

“Yeah,” Lucas admitted, “but I didn’t save the box. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“Don’t worry about it. Nike keeps sending us product samples and I’m pretty sure I have some taking up space in my office.”

Shawn helped Lucas order the rest of the supplies he needed from Amazon and then started making dinner. After a couple of tries, he had a serviceable meal of chicken thighs and slaw. He poured himself and Lucas each a glass of water and they ate in relatively comfortable silence.

Shawn sent Lucas off to bed around 10:00. He had decided that 9:00 was too early a bedtime for middle school, but Cory had insisted that 11:00 was way too late. Once he was sure Lucas was safely in bed, Shawn poured himself a glass of Woodford Reserve on the rocks. His mind was still racing when he finished it, so he poured himself another. He went to bed around 11:00 and got to sleep quickly.

Shawn awoke from a nightmare – his dad again. He looked over at the clock. It was 1:26. Shawn was covered in sweat and knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, so he threw off the covers and went out on the terrace. The cool night air always calmed Shawn down, even though he had air conditioning now. He thought about another glass of bourbon, but he felt like he had to be alert enough to rescue Lucas if there was a fire. He went inside and walked towards his bedroom.

As he walked passed Lucas’ bedroom, Shawn heard groans coming through the door. He opened it to find Lucas tossing and turning. Shawn new from personal experience that this was probably a nightmare. His suspicions were confirmed by Lucas’ murmurs as he approached.

“Daddy…please, I didn’t mean to.”

Shawn gently shook Lucas’ shoulder, and he woke up with a start. His eyes were wide and he was drenched in sweat, and it took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t wherever he’d been dreaming about.

“Where…?”

“Uncle Shawn’s, remember? You were having a bad dream, and I came in to wake you up.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you come out on the terrace where it’s cooler.”


	11. Chapter 11

Topanga Lawrence Matthews arrived home from work to find her husband bickering with her daughter, and no sign of dinner. Riley turned around when she closed the door.

“Ma!”

“What is it?” Topanga sighed.

“She walked out of my class!” Cory interjected. “She’s trying to be Maya.”

Cory generally sympathized with Maya, seeing her as something of a distaff counterpart to Shawn Hunter. Shawn Hunter, however, had never been known as a teachers pet, and had been much less vocal about his personal problems than Maya was. Topanga suspected that Maya’s tendency towards self-pity would wear thin on even the most dedicated teacher.

“Why would you want to be Maya?”

“Because she’s cool,” Riley responded, “she has a wild side, she does what she wants.” Ok, maybe there were a few similarities.

Topanga tried to reassure her daughter. “But you’re such a good person.”

“Who cares about that?” Riley objected. “Do you really think I'm one of those girls who follows all of the rules and never gets into trouble?”

“I was hoping.” Cory grumbled.

“How important is it that you don't know me at all?” Riley stormed off and slammed the door to her bedroom.

Topanga sunk down on the couch. “What is she talking about?”

“Maya,” Cory explained through gritted teeth, “is refusing to do her homework, and our daughter is going along with her.”

“Did you talk to Cheryl?”

“Yes I talked to Cheryl! She says they can’t make any class changes after the school year or everybody will want to get their kids switched out of Hubbard’s English class.”

“Didn’t you tell her about this before the school year?”

“Yes, and then they didn’t have any space because of all the kids trying to switch out of Hubbard’s English class.”

“Ok, have you tried calling Maya’s mother?”

“I want to get her in trouble at school, not home.”

“Cory, you’ve met Katy. This isn’t Chet Hunter we’re talking about.”

“Well…”

“She deserves to know what’s going on with her daughter.”

“When you put it like that…” Cory went over to call Ms. Hart. While he was on the phone, Topanga ordered Chinese food delivered and poured a glass of wine each for herself and Cory.

Cory sipped his wine and sighed. “Katy’s been having to pick up extra shifts at the restaurant, and there’s no one to help Maya with her homework.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Help her with her homework in detention. Now if I only knew what to do with _my_ daughter.”

“We just need to keep the lines of communication open. This age is always tough. Riley’s figuring out her identity, and sometimes that means she’ll feel the need to rebel…”

“I don’t recall figuring out my identity by defying my father in front of the entire class.”

“No,” Topanga chided, “we did our defying behind our parents’ backs. And it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing for most of us.”

“You’re trying to cheer me up.”

“You’re doing better than your parents did, and certainly better than mine or Shawn’s.” The intercom buzzed, and Topanga patted her husband on the shoulder. “That’ll be the Chinese food. Go get Auggie.”

“What about Riley?”

“I’ll bet you a month of toilet scrubbing she quits sulking when she smells the lo mein.”


	12. Chapter 12

Shawn had just gotten out of a meeting when his secretary pulled him aside. “You have an urgent phone call from Stockholm.”

“We don’t have any clients in Stockholm,” Shawn objected.

“They just said it was a very important call and they needed to speak with you personally,” the secretary explained.

“Fine, I’ll take it in my office.”

Shawn pressed the talk button on the phone on his desk. “Hello, this is Shawn Hunter.”

A voice with a Scandinavian accent came over the line. “Hello, this is Bjorn Hermansson. On behalf of the Swedish Academy, it gives me great honor to inform you that you have been selected as the 2018 Nobel Laureate in Literature.”

Shawn hung up the phone before ‘Bjorn Hermansson’ could get any further and went out to the secretary’s office.

“What was it?” Tammy asked.

“Prank call. Some joker telling me I’d won a Nobel Prize.”

The caller tried several more times during Shawn’s next meeting, being rejected with increasing vehemence by the secretary. When Shawn went downstairs for lunch, he was waylaid by a man claiming to be from the Swedish consulate.

“Mr. Hunter, I have been asked by the Swedish Academy…”

“Oh, God, you’re with that prank caller,” Shawn responded, before waving over the building security guard.

Shawn emerged from the building to find a crowd of reporters, asking him how he felt about winning the Nobel Prize. He figured a prank this elaborate had to be for a TV show, and decided that they weren’t going to leave him alone until Ashton Kutcher jumped out at him, so he was better off ordering in.

At 1:30, Shawn got another call. It was from George Feeny’s number and for a moment Shawn was worried that something had happened to his old teacher. Instead Mr. Feeny’s voice was ebullient.

“Mr. Hunter, I’m so proud of you. I never thought one of my students…”

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you’re in on this.”

“In on what?”

“I’m on some prank TV show, they’re trying to get me to believe I won the Nobel Prize.”

“It’s no prank, Mr. Hunter. Turn on your television.”

Shawn flicked on the TV mounted on the wall on his office. Sure enough, an old picture of him with one of the models he’d dated after getting divorced was plastered on CNN.

“In a surprising move,” the anchor intoned, “the 2018 Nobel Prize for literature has been awarded to S.P. Hunter, better known as the managing partner of the controversial advertising firm Hunter Marsden.” The image on the screen shifted to one of Shawn’s commercials for Carl’s Jr.

 _Hey,_ Shawn thought to himself, _earned media._ Then he realized that the call earlier had been real.

“Mr. Feeny,” he spoke into the phone, “I’m going to have to call you back. I may have just insulted the Swedish government.”


	13. Chapter 13

Cory Matthews was less than his usual chipper self as he got the kids ready for school the next morning. Topanga must have noticed, because she asked him if something was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong, what could possibly be wrong,” he replied, “my wife is a highly successful litigator, my best friend just won the Nobel Prize, my brother’s a senator, my sister…uh, what does Morgan do again?”

“She’s an opera singer.”

“…my sister’s an opera singer, my father’s an entrepreneur, my mother’s a romance novelist, Jack’s a billionaire investor, and I, I teach middle school.”

Topanga kissed him on the cheek. “Yep, so go out there and start preparing the leaders of tomorrow.”

“The leaders of tomorrow still have detention,” Cory reminded his wife, “so I’ll be in late again.”

“Pick up something from the bakery downstairs,” Topanga instructed him, “they could use the business.”

Cory spent the subway ride stewing in his discontent. He was alone, because Riley insisted on leaving separately based on a specious claim that she needed to be early for play rehearsals.

_You shouldn’t be jealous of Shawn,_ he told himself, _he’s had such a hard life, with his dad, and the divorce, and now Lucas. He deserves this award._

_That’s_ why _he’s getting the award,_ the metaphorical devil on Cory’s shoulder told him, _he’s so miserable it comes out in his work. You could never create anything of value because you had it so easy. Now you’re stuck flying out to Stockholm to watch everyone fawn over him…just like when he first got the job at Keller-Marsden and you were stuck being the janitor._

The train reached Cory’s station and he got off. “I wonder if they’ll let me do a unit on Van Gogh,” he muttered to no one in particular.

Cory’s day didn’t get any easier as he ran through six repeats of the Pearl Harbor lesson. Riley’s class was especially difficult, because she was more interested in Missy Bradford, who was more interested in Lucas, who was more interested in whatever had kept him up late the night before, than the lesson.

At the end of the day he found himself alone in a classroom with Maya, who was the only kid with detention that day. He decided to use the opportunity to figure out what was going on between Riley and Missy.

“So what’s going on between Riley and Missy?”

“Riley is jealous of Missy because she asked Lucas out and Riley can’t work up the courage to.”

“Riley can’t ask out Lucas,” Cory scoffed, “Shawn’s like a brother to me!”

“What does that have anything to do with it?”

“If Shawn’s like a brother to me, then his nephew and my daughter are like cousins. And nothing good comes from marrying your cousin, as you’ll remember from our unit on the Hapsburgs.”

“The who?”

“Do you ever pay attention in class?”

“No, sir.”

“You know, Shawn was a lot like you growing up. I remember once, when we were about your age, Mr. Turner promised us that if we could have an informed discussion of _The Grapes of Wrath,_ he wouldn’t give a test on it, but Mr. Feeny made him give a test anyway, so we went on strike…” Cory went on to tell an amusing and highly relevant anecdote with a very tenuous connection to reality.

“Gee,” Maya remarked, “It’s weird to think Lucas’ uncle was that much of a cut-up in school and now he’s about to be a Swedish nobleman.”

“What?”

“Riley told me he’s getting ennobled as a prize from Sweden.”

“No, the name of the prize is Nobel, N-o-b-e-l. He’s getting it for his books.”

“So how come we have to read Shakespeare instead of his books?”

“They aren’t appropriate for kids.” Cory thought it would help Maya to explain how Shawn’s difficult childhood informed his writing, but he couldn’t figure out how to do it without violating Shawn’s and Lucas’ privacy.

“Why doesn’t he write books that are appropriate for kids?”

Cory was beginning to suspect that Maya was using the conversation to get out of doing her work. “You can ask him that at career day.”


End file.
